Jacinta
by Thanks for the warm-up
Summary: Life isn't easy when you're Rey Mysterio's sister and about as fast as a tortoise. Add in Cowboy Bob Orton's accent, not to mention a huge thing for a very taken Randy Orton, and you've got a recipe for disaster.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Just so you know, this is a joint account. The Babysitter was written by the _other_ girl on the joint account. So if you have problems with this one, don't flame her, and if you have problems with her, don't flame me. Or you could make the world a better place by not flaming at all. And I do know the real names of the wrestlers, but in most cases I'll just use their stage names, especially if the characters are watching _RAW _or _SmackDown!_. I'm not gonna say "Glenn Jacobs just chokeslammed Paul Wight after hearing voices in his head." R&R. If you don't review, you're just mooching. MOOCHERS!

* * *

_Who's that jumpin' out the sky? _Jacinta asked herself. _Not me, that's for sure_, she answered. _My brother is the one who does all the jumpin' out the sky in this household._ Jacinta's brother was Rey Mysterio, the high-flying WWE superstar. _I guess I could be doing some jumpin' out the sky myself if I wanted. Being Rey's sister would give me pretty much a free ride to diva-hood..._

But that would require Jacinta to get in shape--a prospect she found repulsive. _I bet a _sloth_ is more physically fit that I am._ That was what her elementary and middle school PE teachers had said when she was attempting to do pull-ups on the Presidential Physical Fitness Test From Hell. _And anyway, if I _was _a diva, everyone would expect me to do all the lucha libre moves that Rey does, which just wouldn't work. Even if I _did _get in shape, my desktop computer is more aerodynamic than me. And I don't hold a candle to the laptop._

Jacinta--and all the flab on her 5'11" frame that she knew and loved--was lying on her bed reflecting on how her life really wasn't all _that _bad, but she was going to complain about it anyway.

_The sticking point is guys, _Jacinta surmised, as she had done many times before. _I've been around wrestlers since I was nine and Rey got into the business at 15. For ten solid years I have been around guys who's job--life, even--is to look good on TV and beat each other up. I'm sure even _I _could get a decent-looking nice guy to take care of me when I'm an Alzheimered old fruitcake , but whenever I meet someone, their eyes aren't as pretty as Randy Orton, they can't rap like John Cena, they don't have Batista's good taste, or the Masterpiece's body--_something_ is always wrong with them!_

Jacinta was a hardcore wrestling fan, if that cannot be deduced from the above mental rant. Rey had got her watching it when _he _was just still just a fan, and her interest hadn't flagged yet. She'd lost count of how many times she'd wanted to Chick Kick or RKO people who said wrestling was the fakest thing they'd ever seen.

_It's _not _fake! _Jacinta telepathically projected the speech--honed by years of repeating it--to the minds of non-believers the world over. _The outcomes of the matches are predetermined to fit in with the WWE storyline, but how the wrestlers _get _to those outcomes is spontaneous, more often than not! _Fake _is if someone takes a spill off a ladder or goes through a table and their stunt double does it or they get hit by a steel chair and the chair is made of rubber! Wrestling isn't--_

"Jacinta!" her mother's piercing voice cut through the confusing myriad of her thoughts. "Are you coming or not?"

"Coming, coming!" Jacinta yelled back, as she got out of bed and began to clatter down the stairs. WrestleMania 22 was in three days, and the entire Mysterio clan was turning out to watch Rey in the _SmackDown! _main event trying for the World Heavyweight Championship. Even though Rey knew which way the match was going to swing, but refused to tell any of them.

The 619-mobile waited in the driveway. Jacinta's car, it was a 2002 Toyota Camry painted neon purple with various Rey-type slogans all over it. Most people seeing it were either puzzled or thought she was some type of crazy Rey stalker. This was the car they were taking to 'Mania.

"I can't believe you convinced me to ride in that billboard on wheels," Mama muttered to Jacinta.

"Whatever," she shrugged. "There's a blanket in the trunk, you can hide in the back seat so your social standing won't be damaged."

Mama was about to give Jacinta a lecture about respecting her elders, when Abuela, the Mysterio family's impressive matriarch, imposed herself on the scene. She did everything majestically. She did not walk, she _swept_. Grandly. And that is only the tip of the iceberg. "What have you _done_?" she asked by way of greeting, surveying the car.

Jacinta giggled. Clearly Abuela meant the sizeable dent in the passenger side door. "Nothing," she said innocently. "I most certainly didn't hydroplane and spin off the road and crash into a tree."

"I will drive," Abuela commanded. By this point, both Mama and Jacinta knew not to try to dissuade her. It would only end in tears if they did. "I trust you not at the wheel," she continued.

Jacinta shrugged and got in the back seat. She continued her mental rant or slept for the entire trip.

* * *

Crystal--not to be confusted with _SmackDown! _diva Kristal, or crystal meth--was exhausted. A cut on her forehead bled sluggishly, and she felt the beginnings of a pulled muscle in her leg. But she was happy. She had just beaten Trish Stratus and Mickie James in a brutal triple threat match for the Women's Championship, and the fans weren't booing her. She walked back into the backstage area, hoping to get to the locker room and freshen up before anyone that her appearance would matter to saw her.

"Hey great match," Rey Mysterio said a Crystal passed by.

"Thanks!" Crystal replied enthusiastically. When Rey said you had a great match, you performance had been _phenomenal_. "Good luck in yours!" she told him.

Rey grinned. "Gracias. Oh, and if you see a girl about this tall," he held up his hand about an an inch above Crystal's 5'10", "wandering around looking lost, don't be mean to her. She's my sister."

Crystal smiled. "Since when have _I _been anything but nice to _anyone_?" she asked, eyebrows raised.

"I think you should talk to Victoria about that," smirked Rey.

Crystal waved her hand at Rey in an 'I know you're right but I won't admit it because I'm too stuck up' way and walked on.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Nobody reviewed my first chapter. I'm very disappointed in you. But I can take it in stride, I can be pretty tolerant, and all you people who read and didn't review, enjoy chapter 2.

* * *

Jacinta had always avoided divas like the plague. A load of sluts, the lot of the, whose only brain function was to be provocative on television, in her opinion. The only exception was Trish Stratus. Before she got into 'the business,' she was going to go to med school, so they could discuss things and use big words. 

In the triple threat match in front of them—Jacinta, Mama, and Abuela—the aforementioned Trish had just hit Mickie with Stratusfaction, one of her finishing moves. Mickie was caught up in writhing in pain and Trish was caught up in gloating. Neither noticed the third diva, Crystal, ascending to the top rope. Jacinta was disappointed in them. In Trish, at least.

"Come on, Trish!" she yelled.

Abuela gave Jacinta her patented Icy Majestic Glare. "Must you make my hearing deteriorate further?" she asked, even though her ears were in as good of shape as they had been when she was 25.

Jacinta knew the reason Abuela was so irritable was that she didn't like wrestling and was only there to support her grandson and expected everyone else to have the same attitude—after all, the matriarch is always right. "I'm going for a walk," Jacinta said to Mama.

"Okay," she replied absently, not really hearing what her daughter had said. Mama would never admit it, especially around Abuela, but she was a closet WWE fan, and not just because her son was a part of it. She was really enjoying WrestleMania 22, and not paying the closest attention to her surroundings.

Rey's immediate family had backstage passes as well as excellent seats, courtesy of Vince McMahon—who has more money than God. "Frippery," is what Abuela has to say about the passes, Mr. McMahon, and money in general. But Jacinta decided to use hers and hobnob with some of the guys before she spontaneously combusted from stifling her enthusiasm.

As she walked out, out of the corner of her eye she saw Crystal do some kind of—probably Spanish-sounding—flying move on Trish, the current Women's Champion.

* * *

Crystal was still walking toward the locker room. She wanted to at least bandage herself up a little before she had to go back out there—and before she saw someone who would care that half her forehead was caked with coagulated blood. The new Women's Champion kept her eyes on the ground. She thought that if she were studying the floor, no one significant would recognize her. This was futile, as her style—and title belt, which she would keep to NYR, when she would lose to whatever chick won _RAW_ Diva Search that year—were unmistakable. 

Crystal was so concentrated on the floor tiling that she didn't even notice the man in front of her until she ran right into him. "Oh, sorry," she muttered, not looking up. With her luck it would be the Boogeyman, or worse—JBL. She stepped to the side to open hallway so she could continue the locker room.

The man—whoever he was—sidestepped with her. Crystal inwardly rolled her eyes. She was not in the mood for one of those things where she wanted to get around him and he wanted to get around her, but they just kept bobbing around for fifty years. She looked up to express this to him. She looked into his eyes…

…and just about fainted. She was staring into a pair of piercing blue eyes. They were the most gorgeous eyes she had ever seen. Even better, they were attached to the most gorgeous man she had ever seen—no point in having beautiful eyes if the rest of you looks like something the cat coughed up. And what's more, this gorgeous man was _her_ man, Randy Orton.

Randy smirked. "You can't get away from me that easily."

Crystal tried to sidestep again. _No! _she thought. _I look horrible!_

Randy grinned. He knew Crystal well enough to know why she was trying to escape, and he let her. He thought she was beautiful all the time, but he knew she had other ideas.

* * *

Jacinta was wandering around vaguely, completely lost and confused. She had seen plenty of her friends, and most of them knew where Rey was. So the problem wasn't them, it was her. Her issues with directions were only surpassed by her issues with commands. 

But she was in luck. A charming girl in a habit was helping her out. Samantha, she had given her name as.

"So are you a nun?" Jacinta asked, broaching the subject of why Samantha was wearing a habit.

"Oh, no," Samantha said, smiling. "Former nun."

"Former?"

"Have you seen _Sound of Music_?"

Jacinta nodded.

Samantha winked. "I was that kind of nun. Except it was skiing, not rolling on a hillside."

"That's…cool…" Jacinta didn't really know how to respond to this.

"Not really. My parents disowned me after I left the convent."

Jacinta blinked. "You seem very optimistic…" _She _wouldn't be optimistic if Mama disowned _her_.

"Well, that's why I'm here."

"I'm not following you." Samantha's statement had Jacinta even more confused than the backstage of the arena.

"Well, I know Randy still loves me."

"Randy…Orton?" The Legend Killer was the only Randy Jacinta could think of that would be backstage at WrestleMania 22.

"Yeah. We were engaged once."

"Oh, you're _that _Samantha." Hearing Randy rhapsodize about her when they were together and threaten to kill himself when she left was more than enough to make Jacinta hat her with a fiery passion.

They chatted a little more, but Jacinta was soured on the former nun. Her nose was too big, anyway.

Samantha glanced at her watch. "Oh," she said, reading the time. "I don't want to just leave you, but I've got someone I have to meet."

"Oh, that's fine." Jacinta didn't really mind being rid of Samantha's presence.

Samantha looked relieved that Jacinta wasn't taking offense, but she could have been faking too. "All right. Just take the first right and the second left, and it's the third door on the left." She walked off, habit swishing.

* * *

Crystal had scraped the mass of dark red crap off her face, revealing the wound, which was surprisingly small, and had already stopped bleeding. The fans had been surprised when she had gotten busted open—Mr. McMahon didn't think divas bleeding all over the place was very attractive, but Mickie's character had had one of her psycho episodes and used a chair. 

Crystal rubbed some kind of antibacterial something into her wound and then opened her makeup bag.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I know, I know, you probably read this kind of stuff all the time. But this is serious now. I've had over 100 hits, and, count 'em, two reviews. Now, TwistedKandyKane, I don't mean to single you out, but if you're going to put my story on alert, at least have the decency to review. This next chapter is dedicated to Catrina blows you away/x and Fozzy-Floozy. Thank you. Done ranting now.

* * *

Once again, Jacinta was lost, confused, and really hated her life. She had taken the first right, then the second left—or was it the third? Either way, there were only two doors on the left on the hallway. So she had tried to retrace her steps and got even more bewildered. Jacinta was on the verge of a nervous breakdown when she finally saw a familiar face—the halls recently had been suspiciously empty. Or part of a familiar face, anyway. She was seeing Randy Orton, Playgirl centerfold, but he was making out with that woman Crystal, who had beaten Trish for her title. 

Jacinta decided to just lurk at the end of the hallway, trying not to see anything, until they decided to stop kissing and look around.

She was in for a long wait.

* * *

After perfecting her makeup to make it look as if she _hadn't_ just been a vicious match, _hadn't _gotten hit with a chair, among other things, she went into the men's locker room to fetch Randy. He was standing over a sink, peering into a mirror, and shoring up his hair with more gel. Crystal sighed and rolled her eyes. She wished he would un-spikify his hair occasionally. She thought it was much sexier when it was all plastered down to his head, like when he'd just gotten out of the shower. 

All the guys were a bit surprised when Crystal walked in like she owned the place. Sure she was sexy, and she knew it (above all, she knew _they _knew it), sure she was half-dressed, but that didn't give her a right to just go wherever she pleased, they thought.

But it did.

She snickered, seeing some of the chaos she'd caused. Adam Copeland (Edge) had been tending to his wounds from his incredible hardcore match with Mick Foley and, seeing her, had squirted Neosporin into his eye. Kurt Angle had just gotten out of the shower, and his towel was sagging dangerously. His surprise when he noticed Crystal caused it to drop entirely. He looked panicked. Adam laughed at this. If Kurt had been bleeding, it would have been almost exactly a Team ECK road story he'd related in his book.

"What _do _you say to an Olympic gold medalist with panic in his eyes?" Adam murmured while scrubbing at his eye with a rubber duck a fan had given him, thinking, in his Neosporin-induced blindness, that it was a washcloth.

There was other chaos as well. Guys frantically trying to hide things they thought wouldn't be appropriate for a woman to see was mostly what was going on.

If Randy and Crystal had been on the same brand, instead of Crystal on _RAW _and Randy on _SmackDown!_ all the wrestlers on their brand would have been expecting this, but previously their relationship was mostly in various hotels.

"Hey, Randy," Crystal said.

"Hey," Randy replied, leaning in for a kiss.

A bunch of the guys glared jealously.

Crystal giggled, whispering something to Randy about how they shouldn't do this in front of all his friends and they left together.

They guys all gathered together to talk about what they had just seen. The _SmackDown! _superstars had noticed that Randy had been more satisfied recently, and the _RAW _wrestlers noticed the same thing about Crystal.

* * *

When Randy and Crystal had found the hallway, it had been deserted. Excellent. Now, though, when they took a break to—surprising as it sounds—have a conversation, Crystal noticed some girl standing a little ways away, pretending to look at the ceiling, like she was actually interested in the ceiling tiles. "Who are _you_?" Crystal asked rudely. Who was this girl to interrupt her making out with Randy Keith Orton? 

"Jackie!" Randy exclaimed, surprised. They hadn't seen each other in a while, because of Randy's domestic life. More specifically, his girlfriend, Crystal. They had made an appointment to go to Starbucks and catch up on how life was going—and make fun of his dad's accent, but Randy had to go shopping. He wouldn't say for what. Jacinta couldn't be mad at him for canceling their plans, though. He was too gorgeous.

Jacinta smirked when she heard Randy's greeting. It was a long-standing inside joke. When they had first met, Randy's dad had refused to believe the J in her name was pronounced like an H.

She started walking over to the couple. When she got there, he gave her a hug.

"Ahem," Crystal cleared her throat. She hated being out of the loop. "You know this girl?"

"Yes," Randy said, slightly defensively.

Realizing she wouldn't get much more out of Randy, for whatever reason, Crystal turned to Jacinta. "you know this man?" _My man,_ she thought hostilely.

Jacinta grinned. "I've known him since before he was 'The Legend Killer Randy Orton.' I've known him since he was 'Cowboy Bob's Kid'."

"Yeah, well…how?" Crystal was kind of irritated. _She _hadn't known Randy for that long.

"She's Rey's little sister!" said Randy, coming to her defense. He knew Jacinta had some barbed comments, but not many could hold their own against Crystal.

Crystal studied Jacinta. She did like look vaguely her brother, except taller, and not a guy. "Oh, so you are. He told me to be nice to you."

Jacinta was mortified. She would be having serious words with Rey when she found him. She was nineteen. She could take care of herself. "It made me want to _die_," she had told Trish. This had happened at the Royal Rumble as well. "Have either of you seen Rey?" she asked, mostly talking to Randy.

"Umm…probably making his entrance. I'm set to go on in a second." Randy said. He couldn't figure out why Jacinta had to _ask _where her _brother _was.

"_FUCK!_" yelled Jacinta. "Abuela's gonna _kill_ me!" She sprinted off, suddenly sure of her direction.

"She's weird," Crystal commented.

"Not usually," Randy said, as they began walking to the curtain. "She was just nervous…or something."

Crystal's voice sounded light, but she was suspicious. "You seem to know her pretty well. Did you two ever go out?"

Randy was completely shocked. "No! She is, y'know, so one of the guys, it would be like going out with, well, Rey!"


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Here we go with chapter 4. Enjoy! Sorry about the wait.

Disclaimer: I remembered I've been forgetting this. The WWE superstars and all related trademarks (blah, blah, blah, on and on) belong to Vince McMahon, not me. If they did belong to me, I wouldn't waste my time posting fanfics about them!

* * *

Jacinta made it back to her seat just in the nick of time. She had taken only one small detour, to get a soft pretzel for herself and a CinnaStick for Abuela. If Rey's match had already started, the sugary fried treat would placate her into low grumblings. If Rey _hadn't_ emerged from wherever he had been hiding backstage, Jacinta would be happy to eat it. The previous match hadn't ended yet—a No Holds Barred match between Shawn Michaels and Vince McMahon—but it was winding down. It was obvious that Shawn was going to win. After taking an elbow drop off of a twenty foot ladder through a table—when he had a trash can on his head—there wasn't really a possibility that Vince would come back and win. 

Soon the match was over. Fans around Jacinta cheered or booed, expressing their opinion. Jacinta stayed in her seat. She didn't need another Icy Majestic Glare this close to the _SmackDown! _main event.

Abuela, however, shocked the world by having an opinion. "The one with the hair was crude and unnecessarily violent. And the gesture he did..." She shuddered, remembering the crotch chop which offended her delicate sensibilities. Abuela clearly disapproved. She shook her head vehemently, dislodging her elaborate updo.

Mama tried to comfort Abuela, and they started talking rapidly in Spanish. Apparently, Abuela's disapproval was too big to be confined to only one language.

_I'm too lazy to translate, _Jacinta thought, and took a bite of CinnaStick.

The two women were silenced by P.O.D. playing Rey's entrance theme. Jacinta, Mama, Abuela, and all the lesser family members—aunts, uncles, cousins, etc.—arrayed behind them went absolutely _insane_. Only a few of the vast throng were fans like Jacinta—most were of Abuela's camp, and had just come out to support Rey. Still, fans of wrestling or not, they were all of the Mysterio clan, and the ignorant ones cheered just as loud as the ones who knew what was going on. A bunch of people who were fans of Randy Orton or Kurt Angle glared, but the Mysterios didn't notice, and if they had, they wouldn't have cared.

They had gone into a respectful silence after Rey's entrance (they could have unleashed a massive boo, but had too much class).

Abuela wouldn't stay quiet for long, however. "He is too big," she announced as Randy made his way to the ring. "Obviously on steroids."

"Abuela!" Jacinta exclaimed, at the same time as Mama did. Jacinta had considerably more venom than Mama did, of course. Randy was one of _her _best friends, while Mama only had a crush on him ("Invite that nice Randy fellow more often," she had told Jacinta on more than one occasion). And Abuela's accusations were totally baseless. Even a casual glance at Randy's Speedo would make it clear that no steroids were present.

As Randy was announced and made his way to the ring, Abuela sniffed disapprovingly. She did not like wrestling. Or any sports at all, for that matter. _She _had wanted Rey to be an accountant, not that anyone had bothered to ask her what _she _thought of her grandson's career path. She sniffed again.

Jacinta was tempted to give her the Slitty Eyed Look of Pure Scorn and Grudges Held Until the End of Time. She even felt her head swivel in Abuela's direction and her eyelids start to draw together, but she stopped herself. You didn't give the Look to your grandmother, especially if your grandmother had as impressive of an Icy Majestic Glare or Deliberate Ignoring of Child in Question in her arsenal as Abuela did.

Mama, having guessed Jacinta's intention—after all, it was Mama who Jacinta complained to for hours about Crystal—was giving her daughter her famous Warning Look. Mama's Look—sharpened from raising two stubborn, headstrong children—was potent enough to strike down even the most subtle sign of mischief at twenty feet. "I could work with the cops, keeping criminals from leaving the scene," she had joked, after finding her kids in the cookie jar. It wasn't fair that they'd gotten caught, Jacinta thought. Mama had made chocolate chocolate chip.

It still worked just as well, even though Jacinta was 15 years older. So Jacinta had to abandon her vendetta to get Abuela to admit Randy was hot. She put her chin in her had and watched Randy, vaguely wondering what kind of kisser he was.

* * *

It had been a great match, and much back and forth, Rey had walked away with the title. The eruption of his family was absolutely deafening. Abuela's brother Alejandro barely got out of being sued because the man he was sitting next to experienced hearing troubles after WrestleMania. 

Jacinta lay on the bed in her hotel room—the same hotel all the wrestlers were at. She could hear Carlito in the room above her playing strip poker with a bunch of divas, and Snitsky practicing his growls two doors down. Jacinta reflected on the match. It had been excellent, and if she hadn't known any of the guys personally, she would have been glad that Rey had pinned Randy and not Kurt, after all the crap he'd been spewing. She sighed. He made an excellent heel. She wished he would turn back to 'face, but as long as he was so good at insulting people, there was no way.

It was pouring down rain. Jacinta would go out and dance in it in a little while, but for now she just wanted to enjoy the quite. Mama and Abuela—whose respective rooms were a floor below and down the hall—had taken the 619-mobile out to find some "real, true, authentic" Mexican food, "not that horrible stuff we normally have to deal with," for Rey's celebration later.

_They'll probably settle for Chinese like they did last time they tried to find _real _Mexican food, _she thought cynically. _I hope they get some crab Rangoon._

Since the only two people who cared about her existence at that particular moment were out accosting the owners and chefs of various Mexican restaurants around the city, Jacinta wouldn't be bothered.

She got bored after about eight seconds of calm and peacefulness.

"I'm going out," she announced, as if anyone was listening. She cautiously checked the peephole, in case someone she didn't like was out there, and was immediately glad she did. She saw that…woman…Samantha, making a beeline for Randy's room, which was the big fancy suite at the end of the hall. When Samantha had turned a corner—that's how private Randy's room was, it was around a corner—Jacinta risked walking out into the hall. She heard Samantha's giggle coming from around the corner.

Jacinta didn't precisely _slam _the door—she wasn't _that _juvenile—but it _did _rattle in the frame a little harder than was absolutely necessary. Then she realized she'd forgotten her room key. "Oh, well," she said, suddenly happy that she'd forgotten the key. It meant that she couldn't go back into her room and mope, and that she'd have to go outside in the rain to mope.

She suddenly found herself in one of those moods, where she was willing to do anything because her life couldn't possibly suck any more than it already did. Passing Snitsky's door, she banged on it and yelled, "Ha ha, shut the hell up, fag!"

Then she ran. She had abruptly realized that if she was horribly maimed, her life _would _suck more than Snitsky sucked Tomko.

She made it safely to the stairwell before Snitsky lumbered to the door to see who it was. Suddenly Jacinta was overcome with a fit of hysterical giggles. _I can't believe I just did that! _she thought. _Geez, my moods are all over the place._ She started walking down the stairs. She bet she looked like a raccoon who had invaded someone's make up bag, but the stairwell ended in a door leading to the outside, so she didn't have to see anyone.

Jacinta stood in the rain for a while, getting completely soaked, and making her makeup streak even more. Then she puddle jumped. She was tempted to key Samantha's car—the license plate said MRS RKO, for the love of God—but, like her room key, she'd left her real keys in her room and _wasn't _going back to get them. Jacinta puddle jumped over to a metal, grated park bench type thing and sat on it. _Behold,_ she thought. _The beautiful overlook of the scenic Hampton Inn parking lot. _She stared at the patterns the rain was making on the cars, and eventually fell asleep. How she managed to in such wretched conditions, she would never figure out.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I just wanted to let you guys know that I'll be gone for a long time (like, over two weeks, maybe even more than that) so I'm trying to squeeze in all the updates I can—and make them long updates—for my mad reviewing public (ok, that's a bit of a stretch, but can't a girl dream?). Enjoy! This chapter will introduce the much-anticipated (by me at least) Cowboy Bob Orton!

* * *

Hampton Inn breakfast buffets were unmatched in their goodness. The only hotel whose breakfasts can come anywhere close to the quality of the Hampton is the Clarion in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. If you wanted it, it would be at the Hampton. They even had miso soup. 

Jacinta lived for Hampton Inn breakfasts. As with any all-you-can-eat buffet, her philosophy was, "Let's see if I can eat it all." Everyone who knew her at all knew that about her. So the fact that she was staring dismally at a mug of green tea—and her appearance—drew many strange looks.

Jacinta shot a surreptitious glance at Crystal, who was having an animated conversation with Randy, although the talk dropped occasionally, when Crystal realized either a) she was talking to Randy Orton, or b) how pretty his eyes were.

Jacinta was wet, cold, dissatisfied, and had a horrible crick in her neck. And she did look like a manic raccoon. And though she normally didn't mind, the looks were starting to annoy her on an epic scale.

She stomped out of the breakfast room.

Most of the time when Jacinta was angry, she took the stairs. Her stomps and angry mutterings echoed most interestingly there. But, in this case, she was too tired. "Ah, screw it," she muttered and pressed the elevator button.

The elevator slid open almost immediately, and Jacinta stepped inside. Just as the door was about to shut, Matt Hardy slid though the door. Jacinta rolled her eyes. Matt was one of her really good friends, but he'd gotten incredibly obnoxious since he and Ashley Massaro had started dating. "Hey, Jackie (yes, Randy's nickname for her was used throughout the WWE)," he'd say. "Guess what? I've got a girlfriend!"

"Do you mind?" Matt asked, pressing the 8 button.

"Do I have a choice?" Jacinta asked, pressing the 10.

Matt shrugged. "Not really. What _happened _to you, Jackie? You look like you spent the night on a park bench."

Jacinta glared at him. Matt couldn't help laughing—the only thing funnier than a manic raccoon was a really angry manic raccoon.

Jacinta sighed. "Not that it's any of _your _business, but it just so happens that I did spend the night on a park bench. Is that, y'know, a problem?" She inwardly cringed. _If I'm getting Randy's speech impediment—saying y'know every two words, _Jacinta thought,_ I'm gonna, y'know, kill myself. Oh no!_

Matt picked some leaves out of her hair and handed them to her. "No problem for me, but your grandmother is on the warpath. Watch out." The elevator dinged. The hats arrived on the eighth floor. Matt shoved his hands in his pockets and walked off.

"What am I supposed to do with _these_?" Jacinta called after him, meaning the leaves.

Matt didn't answer. The door slid shut again. "That's it," Jacinta resolved. "If I can get a hold of his room key, he is getting some kind of reptile in his bed."

* * *

Randy was having a very enjoyable conversation with his girlfriend, Crystal, over breakfast. Yes, the conversation was very enjoyable, but, all things considered, he'd rather be having sex. But Crystal was a good Catholic girl, no sex before marriage, and Randy respected that. That's not to say he didn't 'accidentally' forget his towel coming out of the shower occasionally—he had to try, at least, but he respected her. 

Crystal was saying something—probably very meaningful—but at that precise moment, Randy was watching her mouth move. He didn't do this very often, but when he did, Crystal thought it was cute, so everything was fine. Suddenly, though, she stopped in mid-sentence and stared over his left shoulder. "Randy, there's a nun behind you," Crystal said, instantly hating whoever this nun chick was. She didn't look like a fan wanting an autograph, so she obviously had a personal reason for wanting to talk to Randy. Crystal didn't like this. _My man_, she thought savagely. _Back off, Gonzo._ Her nose was way too big. It annoyed Crystal.

Randy turned. And there was Samantha. She had been his fiancée before she had left him to join a convent, of all things. The Lord was calling her, or something like that. Now Randy was all for religion, but he didn't understand at the time why she couldn't do God's work _and _marry him. By now he was glad the Lord had called Samantha, though. God might have been talking to Randy at the same time He was talking to Samantha. Because three weeks after she'd left, Crystal got her WWE contract.

"Umm…hi…?" he said uncertainly. _Why is _she _here? _he wondered. _I thought I took care of her last night when she showed up at my door. Good thing Crystal was, y'know, out doing something then…_

"Hi, Randy!" Samantha said enthusiastically, pushing Funaki out of his chair and dragging the chair over to Randy and Crystal's table, and settling about half an inch away from Randy.

Randy scooted his chair further away. When it came to Crystal, personal space was not an issue. But he'd had plenty of time to think about Samantha since he'd met Crystal, and had no idea why he'd ever gone out with—or proposed to—someone with a nose that huge.

"Who is this?" Crystal asked, even though she had a good idea who it was. She and Randy didn't keep secrets. Well, there was that thing with John Cena, but it was over now, so it didn't matter. And anyway, since they'd been dating at the time, not going out, they could still see other people.

Randy introduced them. "Crystal, this is, y'know, Samantha, I told you about her." He'd told Crystal about Samantha shortly after they started going out, when they'd been watching TV, and some show came on that had a nun in it, and Randy had put his foot through the screen. "Sam," he continued, "This is Crystal, my _girlfriend_."

Samantha raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?" she said, placing her hand on Randy's. Crystal bristled possessively at the touch, and Randy twitched his hand away. Samantha pouted.

"I made myself clear. Crystal. And. I. Are. Going. Out." Randy spoke slowly, as if he was talking to the very stupid.

"Um, Randy, you're engaged to _me_." Maybe he was talking to the very stupid.

"You cheated on me with God!" said Randy exasperated.

Crystal snickered. She couldn't help it. The mental image of that was hilarious.

Samantha's pout grew more pronounced. "But you said you loved me…"

"And then you left me. So, y'know, now I don't. I, y'know, met someone else. Someone better. And I love her more than I ever could have loved you," Randy explained patiently. He knew that he was crushing her spirit, but didn't care—anything to make her go away.

Crystal was in shock after this little speech. _Did those words just come out of Randy Orton's mouth…about me? _she wondered, but was pretty sure they had.

"Fine!" Samantha said. "I hope you're happy!" She ran out of the hotel sobbing, but already planning her revenge.

"I _am _happy," Randy murmured.

Crystal had heard him, but figured it was not something meant for her ears. "How old is she? Nine?" she asked Randy while returning Funaki's chair to him. Funaki resumed eating his miso soup with Tajiri.

"She just can't handle disappointment."

Crystal rolled her eyes. "I knew _that_," she said. "OK, so you opened the door and then what?" she asked, referring to a hilarious story Randy had been telling before he had been so rudely interrupted.

Randy laughed. "So I, y'know, open the door and you will not _believe _what I see…"

* * *

Jacinta opened the door and could not believe what she saw. Well, she could have believed it if she had listened to matt's advice instead of trying to figure out why he had just given her a handful of leaves. She opened the door and got an Icy Majestic Glare right in the face. Abuela. 

"Where have you been?" she demanded.

Jacinta just stood there. She got the, "You had me worried _sick_. What is your _problem_? Worrying like this is the last thing you need at my age…" speech in the hallway. She thought she heard laughter from upstairs. _Quit listening through the vents, Carlito,_ she thought savagely. _I taught you that trick myself, don't you _dare _use it against me!_

She was allowed inside the room before she got the, "your antics are embarrassing to this family…" talk, the "You need to take better care of yourself…" lecture, and the, "You should attend family functions instead of partying, getting drunk, high, and prostituting yourself. We didn't do those kind of thins in my day. We respected our elders…" diatribe—the most ludicrous accusation of all.

Jacinta was certain she heard laughter this time. She only survived the endless blathering by replaying John Cena's CD—the explicit version, of course—over and over in her head. She knew every word, and got through it three times before Abuela appeared to be winding down.

"…and so I want you to work on improving yourself so you do not bring shame to our family."

_She looks like she's done_, Jacinta thought. _I'd better stop raining fire like Apache helicopters and start nodding and looking remorseful. _She promptly did so.

"Very good," Abuela announced. "I am glad we had this talk. You will take my words to heart, yes?"

Jacinta nodded.

"Outstanding. Then you will not dishonor the family, yes?"

Jacinta nodded again.

"Excellent. Then you will not smear the Mysterio honor any more, yes?"

Jacinta nodded a third time.

"Grand. Then you will speak at some point, yes?"

Jacinta blinked. She hadn't realized that senses of humor had been invented in her grandmother's day. "Yes…Abuela…"

Abuela shook her head. She had treated—and been treated—by her _own _grandmother much the same way. She had sworn to herself that _she _wouldn't become like that. Except she had. The only difference between Jacinta's situation and her own when she was young was that she didn't have any catchy background music in her head to drown out the senile ramblings. Of course all those ramblings made sense _now_, and she was regurgitating them herself. She would try again later, but for now, she knew from experience Jacinta just wanted whatever Authority Figure that was there to leave. She swept out.

Jacinta sighed with relief and flopped down on her bed. More laughter came through the vents. She grred and got up and walked over to a vent. "You're not cool and you cheat at poker to see the divas naked!" she yelled through it. The laughter grew louder.

_OK_, Jacinta thought. _When I get a reptile for Matt, I will get something disgusting and slimy for Carlito._

She looked in the mirror and nearly had a heart attack. _All right. That's it. I am _never_ doing that again_, she thought, and walked into the bathroom.

* * *

"I cannot believe, y'all, Randy. Did y'all get my approval before gettin' serious with that girl? No! Y'all are too young to have sex with that girl, Randy." The rant was Randy's dad, Bob, to Randy. Randy had informed his father that he was in love—it was for real now, dad—and he had been less than thrilled. 

"Dad, you were fine when Samantha and I, y'know, got engaged," Randy said, trying to be the voice of reason.

"I knew y'all wouldn't last," Bob said. "And y'all weren't having sex with Sammy."

Randy and Samantha had gotten jobs at the same place in high school so they could sneak in quickies in the back.

"I don't know this Crystal girl," Bob continued. "And y'all're going off and sayin' you love her? And what kind of a name is Crystal anyway?"

"Dad," Randy said. "How about this? I'll take…y'all," it hurt to say 'y'all,' but if he talked like his dad, Bob might be more inclined to listen, "…out to dinner, and you can get to know Crystal and see if you, y'know, approve."

"OK, Randy. But it better be a nice restaurant, y'all hear?"

"Yes, sir."

"OK. Now I'm gonna go check into my room, ya'll go get ready and be down her at 6:30, y'all hear?"

"Yes, dad."

Bob walked over to the front desk. "I need a room," he announced in his peculiar drawl.

"I'm sorry, sir, we're all full," said the front desk girl, a shy brunette whose name was Sylvia.

"Look, y'all, I need a place to rest my head. I reckon' y'all'll just have to turn some'un else out of their room!"

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't do that," Sylvia said meekly. The wrestlers scared her.

"Now look here, Miz Sylvia," Bob said, reading her name tag, "I'm tired, and I need somewhere to sleep."

* * *

Freshly showered so she didn't look like something out of a bad zombie movie, Jacinta headed down to the lobby to see if there was any breakfast left. Little did she realize hat it was 12:30, and Abuela had talked the morning—and the breakfast—away. She took the stairs because she was too lazy to wait for the elevator.

* * *

"Ma'am, I am not gonna tell y'all again! I need a room! I don't care _how _full y'all are!" 

The stairwell door opened. Jacinta saw the trademark hat, and tried to sneak out without being seen.

She didn't make it.

"Jackie!" Bob thundered. "I haven't seen y'all in forever! C'mere!"

Jacinta joined Bob at the front desk, wincing. While the nickname was a joke to the rest of the wrestlers, who actually knew how to pronounce her name, with Randy's dad, it was serious. 'I'm sorry,' she mouthed at Sylvia. "Mr. Orton, what's the problem?" she asked.

"This here young'n won't give me a room."

Sylvia wasn't daunted by being called a 'young'n.' She figured that even Stonehenge would be a 'young'n' next to this particular customer. "We're full, sir," she repeated for the umpteenth time.

"OK," said Jacinta calmly. She was an expert at this. A lot of people were, actually. If you hung out with Randy long enough, you learned to resolve conflicts between Bob and people in the service industry. "OK," she repeated. "How about this? See who has a room with two beds and is only using one."

Sylvia tapped a few keys. "I'm sorry. The only room with two beds and one occupant is room 1021, occupied by a Mr. Gene Snitsky."

Jacinta thought for a second. "What about Tyson Tomko?"

"What about him?"

"What is the status of his room?"

"Mr. Tomko is sharing a room with Mr. Chris Mordetsky (Masters)."

"How about this?" Jacinta said. "We take Tomko and stick him in with Snitsky, and you can room with Chris. Is that all right, Mr. Orton?"

"Y'all know it ain't _all right_. Y'all know I spent my entire career in an $8 a night hotel with cigarette smoke, cigar smoke, and 300 pound wrestlers farting. I want my own room!" Another reason Bob wanted his own room is that his wife, Elaine, would be coming in later. He thought Jacinta was the best thing since sliced bread, but she and Elaine had had some battles.

"All right, Mr. Orton," Jacinta said, then turned back to Sylvia. "How about this. Put Tomko in Snitsky's room. _I'll _sacrifice my privacy and—after fumigating it, of course—take Tomko's old bed. Mr. Orton, you can have my old room."

"OK," said Bob. "Now, y'all make that work," he said to Sylvia. "I don't want no hanky panky between you and that Chris fella," he said to Jacinta.

"Don't worry, Mr. Orton, nothing like that will happen. I'll go get my stuff, you stay down here and try not to scare the nice lady too much." Jacinta walked away and hit the call button on the elevator.

Bob and Sylvia just stared at each other for a minute.

"Umm…sir, if you want to sit down while you wait, there are some chairs…over…there…"

Bob leaned on the desk. "Y'all need to learn how to talk properly he announced…"

"…sir…"


	6. Chapter 6

Bulletin: The previous chapter had too many errors for my liking. And also, how am I gonna know what you think of my work if I don't get any reviews?

* * *

A/N: I can't believe it's been so long! Time just flew by. I've got more all written, but I have to finish up this part first. I doubt I'll get any reviews, since it's been like five months since I last updated, but who cares, writing is what I do. (PS, check out Anna Vader. She's freaking awesome. And her first fic mentions Batista.) 

P.P.S. This chappie's dedicated to Vera Roberts. She's great at what she does, and as soon as I'm done updating, I'm gonna go read some more.

Now, if I recall correctly, Bob Orton was trying to teach Sylvia how to speak.

* * *

"'Y'all' can be singular or plural," Bob was saying, "as in, 'Y'all better not be havin' sex with that girl, Randy,' or 'Y'all better not be havin' sex.' 'Y'all's' is possessive, like 'y'all left y'all's tractor at my house last night.' 'All y'all' is plural, like 'I ain't seen all y'all together in years. 'All y'all's' is _PAY ATTENTION WHEN I AM TALKIN' TO Y'ALL!_" 

While Bob driveled, Sylvia had continued her work, namely getting Bob into a bed without, as he put it, "300 pound wrestlers farting."

Bob was clearly about to start berating Sylvia again, when Jacinta swept into the lobby, Chris Masters, Snitsky, and Tomko in her wake. Anyone who saw her then would swear she was just like her Abuela, except not all wrinkly. She was explaining the plan as she walked, and said, "So is everything OK?" as she joined Bob at the counter. The men all nodded, and the Great Key Exchange took place, Jacinta secretly dousing the one she received with hand sanitizer.

"All right, all yours," she said to Bob, then looked serious for a second. "But if some crazy old lady shows up in the middle of the night, it's not my fault."

Bob nodded, not really understanding, then all of them dispersed to check out their new rooms.

When they got to theirs, Jacinta saw Chris giving her a funny look. "What?" she asked. "Do I have something in my teeth?"

"Why are you here?"

"Why does it matter?" she countered.

"It's just, you…you… you look different than I expected."

"I'm fat, you mean." Chris and Jacinta hadn't met before. He'd just heard stories about Randy's awesome friend who was also Rey's little sister. So he pictured a Shakira-esque Latina stunner, not the slightly frumpy fat girl glaring at him.

"Well…"

"Oh, stop sugarcoating. You expected the next Crystal," she spat the word, "because I hung out with Randy." Jacinta threw down her bag and stomped out to surf herself into oblivion on the hotel computers.

* * *

Randy, Crystal, and Bob were walking up to a very exclusive five-star restaurant, and Randy was desperately trying to talk some sense into his dad. 

"Please, dad, just this once. It's a fancy restaurant, and it's," he glanced at Crystal, "a _very _special occasion."

"No, absolutely not, boy."

Randy looked divine in a suit, and Crystal was wearing a designer black cocktail dress. Bob had also sprung for a suit, but was still wearing his cowboy hat.

"_Please_."

"No."

They had reached the entrance where the maitre d,' who had an extremely upturned nose, was waiting for them. "May I help you, sirs, madam?" he asked.

"We're wantin' some fried chikin," Bob said as he swaggered up to the head waiter.

Randy deftly stepped in front of his father. "There should be a reservation. Orton."

"Ah, yes," the maitre d' said, "your table is this way. But might I ask you to remove that…article…" he glanced disapprovingly at Bob's hat.

Randy begging him to take it off—the hat, pervs!—was one thing. But this snob telling Bob to was something totally different. And it pissed him off. "This hat, y'all mean?" He said. "This hat here's my most treasured possession, exceptin' my family, that is, and y'all don't go messin' with a man's most treasured possession. I've kept this hat on for near thirty years," Randy winced and Crystal wondered how Elaine had dealt with it, "and I ain't gonna start by takin' it off now. I'm payin' for y'all to dress y'all's fancy little asses up, so I can wear whatever I damn well please!"

The waiter didn't dignify this tirade with a response, merely said, "Your table is this way," blandly.

_

* * *

_

_Ooh, Vera Roberts posted a new chapter_, Jacinta thought.

She was a big fan of Vera Roberts' wrestlefics, even though some were not much more than porn-on-a-page, and checked for updates frequently. She scanned through the new chapter about Dave (Batista) and his troubled relationship with a young Broadway superstar, then frantically reviewed, wanting more updates. Her penname, J Mysterio, had gotten her some comments like, "Don't you know Rey's married?" She got similar comments about her 619-mobile. She really was gonna have to have Rey put her on TV sometime so people would quit assuming she was some sort of stalker. Whatever. She reread her favorite parts of the chapter again, and was startled by a, "Hey," over her shoulder. Whirling, she saw the real Batista, in town for the show, just like she was. Oh, and a quick WrestleMania appearance, not like she was. She quickly closed the window.

"Hey yourself."

He sat in the nearest chair and looked at her. She opened her mouth to say something like, "If this is another you-need-to-get-in-shape talk, you can just leave right now," but his words shocked her into silence.

"That Vera girl has talent."

"…"

"What?" Dave asked.

Jacinta couldn't restrain a giggle. "_You _read fics about _yourself_?"

He chuckled. "Tall, dark, and handsome couldn't begin to describe me," he quoted.

"Oh, hush, or people'll start to think you're the egotistical one, not Randy."

They exchanged banter for a little while, causing one fangirl to wonder what her idol was doing talking to a cow. She made it her mission in life to rescue him. She walked over, straddling him just as Melina had. No one ever said she didn't have guts.

"Hi," Dave said awkwardly while Jacinta tried to restrain laughter, with mixed results.

"Hi," the girl said in what was an obvious attempt to sound sultry.

"Do you want me to sign something for you…?"

She pulled up her shirt. "Sign these."

Jacinta laughed like a madwoman, but then decided to do damage control. She walked over to Carlito, who was gawking. "C'mere," she said. "Distract this chick. You know you want to." She dragged him over and a few smooth moves later he was getting some action and Jacinta had her friend back.

They laughed together, and Jacinta decided that if he weren't 37, he'd be ideal husband material. The age difference didn't matter in Vera's fic, but life was different, as she well knew, having written several RandyOC's herself.

His eyes changed slightly, and Jacinta knew that Dave was getting serious. She blocked him before he could even get a word out. "Yes, I know, my fat is slowly killing me, I need to work out, blah blah blah, any new material today?"

From the look on his face, her pants size wasn't what he was there to discuss. "I need your advice. Should I try to patch things up with Angie?"

Angie was his wife. They had been together for a long time, and seemed like the perfect couple, but had recently separated.

Jacinta was floored. "You want to ask _me_? Why? I…I…I'm nineteen and have never had a boyfriend in my life, and you want me to give you advice about your marriage?"

There was no trace of amusement on his face. "Yes."

Jacinta sighed. "Much as it would please all of your fangirls for me to say no, I think you should stay with her, unless the damage is irreparable. No one's spent as much time with her as you have, though, so it's your decision."

* * *

"That steak ain't rare enough!" Bob told the maitre d' for the third time—the head waiter had decided to deal with them himself. He couldn't risk any of the staff resigning. Good help was a terror to find. 

"What do you suggest I do, sir? Get it out of the freezer and hand it to you?"

"Naw, that won't be necessary. Just walk it back and forth past the stove a few times."

Randy put his head in his hands. This was not turning out to be the idyllic evening he had in mind for him and his fiancée. Crystal slipped him a painkiller under the table. He snuck it with a sip of water and mouthed, "Thank you," when the drugs started to take effect.

* * *

"So I've dumped my problems," Dave said, feeling lighter-hearted, even if the advice he'd just gotten was from a slightly flighty teenager who probably should be on Prozac. "Now it's your turn." 

"I have an impossible crush on Randy Orton and I want to kill his fiancée slowly," she deadpanned.

Dave thought she was joking, but then saw that she was completely serious. He shrugged. Advice for advice. He said, "Well, I have a suggestion for you…"


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: I know, you're thinking, nothing for five months, and now two in a weekend. Amazing. So here we go. Short chapter, I know, but I've got some ideas.

* * *

Three years later

"Are you a new diva?" Michael Cole asked, puzzled. He glanced at JBL, who shrugged. They'd been at this job together for nearly three years, and JBL had improved tremendously. He still had a pretty far way to go, though, to even come close to Tazz, King, and miles to get to JR.

The woman didn't answer them. She was taking in the show like a fan at her first WrestleMania, all wide-eyed, not believing she was actually there. Whether she was a diva or not, she was definitely new.

The theme song played, and the woman couldn't hold back a small squeal, especially, Michael noticed, when Randy Orton showed up on the TitanTron.

"Well, here we are on Friday Night _SmackDown!_" Cole said to kick off the show, "Coming to you from Birmingham, Alabama. We also have a special new addition to the _SmackDown! _locker room here wi—"

"I'm not a diva," the woman interrupted softly.

"Then what are you doing out here?" asked JBL. None of them had gotten any briefing from the company about this. They'd just walked out and this woman was sitting on their announce table, dangling her feet over the edge, with a headset on. Since then, she'd moved to a chair, but hadn't said anything apart from, "Hello." Something looked familiar about her to both of them, though they couldn't quite figure it out. She was tall and skinny with dark hair and eyes and long legs. She was vaguely Spanish looking, and pretty, although not all-men-fall-and-worship-at-my-feet-diva pretty.

She regarded him levelly. "I'm your new co-commentator. The office thought you needed some help on color." This wasn't originally part of Dave's plan, but dropping off the face of the earth for a while—then reemerging skinny and hot—was. And what better way to do it than on _SmackDown!_, Randy's current show?

"So, who are you?"

"Read the screen," she pointed to the TitanTron where all of their images were displayed, along with their names. "Jacinta Mysterio," it said under hers.

"So you're…" Michael said, suddenly recognizing her. Geez, she looked different.

"Yes, yes, I'm Rey's little sister. Now can we please get the show started? Those two chicks behind us look a little spazzy."

The two chicks in question looked more than a little spazzy. They were screaming at the top of their lungs, and waving signs around. The shorter one's said, "Randy, n. see Perfect" and the other was holding, "Shut up Bradshaw."

So, the show got on the road. Jacinta proved to be quite good at the whole commentating gig, and was greatful for that. She figured this was the only career where muscular, half naked guys would throw themselves at her and she would get paid for it.

After the show, backstage, she just wanted to get back to her hotel room and get some rest. This wasn't to be though. Someone swept her up in a hug from behind. "Jackie!" Randy said.

Jacinta allowed herself to hope. _Maybe I've even got a chance, now that I'm not a heifer…_

"Jackie, where have you been? It's like you disappeared! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

_He's been looking everywhere for me…_

"Crystal wanted you to be in the wedding, but nobody knew where you were."

Jacinta's heart went crunch, like a piece of extra crispy bacon once you take a bite out of it. "You got married?" she asked.

"Yeah!"

"Congratulations, Randy," she said, sounding happy but trying not to cry. Looks like her and Dave's plan didn't work out so well after all. One of Randy's friends yelled at him to come over there, so he said a quick, "Bye, Jackie, see you around," and left her.

She made her way back out to her car.

"Hi," she heard from behind her. She saw Catrina, another new superstar, whom she had talked up earlier that night during her match. Catrina had tried out for the 2007 Diva Search, but hadn't even made the finals. Undeterred, she clawed her way up through the indies, the way someone was supposed to make it big.

"Hi."

"Is something wrong? You look upset."

"No, nothing." Unfortunately, Jacinta was focused on trying to put one foot in front of the other without breaking down in the middle of the hallway, not on lying convincingly.

Catrina stepped in front of her. "You might as well tell me now, otherwise I'll just bother you until you're my friend, and you'll tell me then."

"Oh, ok," Jacinta said grudgingly, and told her the entire sorry story.

She had forgotten how nice it was to have a girl her own age to talk to.


End file.
